Christina Moreira, in front of the altar of her informal parish, in La Coruña (Spain), April 5, 2026. PIERRE TERRAZ
"This is our low-cost sacristy," joked Christina Moreira as she opened a locker and pulled out a porcelain chalice and a bottle of Spanish liqueur to serve as communion wine. On this Sunday morning, the religious woman was busy preparing for the upcoming Easter celebration at the heart of this small church in downtown A Coruña, in northern Spain.
Regulars enter the discreet chapel, nestled on the fourth floor of a residential building, by elevator. For the small group of familiar faces who found their way without trouble, everything seemed normal, but what was about to unfold was anything but. The altar was a desk covered with a white cloth, the host was a loaf of bread bought that morning at a neighborhood bakery and the priest was a woman.
Ordained in 2015 after a long and difficult journey, then consecrated bishop in 2025, Christina remembers the day she received her calling. "I was 14. To prepare for a catechism class, I was rereading a passage about the Last Supper, Jesus' final meal with his apostles. Suddenly, I was transported to the table beside Christ, and I heard him say to me: 'You will do this in memory of me,'" she recalled in one breath, still moved by the memory.
